


Sweet Addiction

by z0mbieshake



Series: Toxic Affair [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dry Humping, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Power Play, Stockholm Syndrome, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/z0mbieshake/pseuds/z0mbieshake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Toxic Affair, Malcolm thinks back in his life and how he ended up like this: Despised by the town, without family or friends, and unhealthily obsessed with his son's boyfriend</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> So one day, I decided that I really wanted to get in the head of a complete sleazebag. And this was born. Trigger warning: As the tags say, this gets very dark so please tread with caution. 
> 
> As this is a "sequel" to one of my older fics [Toxic Affair](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3425180/chapters/7504547), here there be spoilers/you probably won't understand much without reading Toxic Affair first.

"I'm cleaning up this family."

_Neal Cassidy, the runaway son. The boy who ditched his family despite being given the entire world. Malcolm would've killed to have been the eldest son; it had honestly crossed his mind back when his own father passed on all the power of the family to his older brother. His oh-so-perfect older brother, strict and cold when it came to business but an utterly soft-hearted fool when it came to his family._

_"The Golds have been in charge of Storybrooke for decades," Malcolm reasoned._

_The moment his son returned, convinced by his do-gooder girlfriend to go home, return to his family, and clean it up from the inside, Malcolm's brother gave everything to his eldest son without a second thought, desperate to have him back._

_"We can stay in charge," Neal said, "We handle the loans, the debt, but the exploitation, the blackmail? That stops right now."_

Neal Cassidy, _Malcolm clenched his teeth. He was never good at hiding his emotions, anger pouring out like a spoiled child. This_ brat _had no idea what kind of power he held, the things he could achieve, living like a king in modern times. Malcolm would not have it._

_"Do you think this will be easy?" Malcolm retorted, his voice getting darker with each word, "The entire city fears us. It'll take them years before they'll accept the Golds as benign."_

_"I never said it'd be easy," Neal replied, tossing his head back, so goddamn arrogant in his nobility. His girlfriend stood beside him, nodding to him, reinforcing this idiocy, "I'm turning this family into something respectable, a clean slate for Emma, for my younger brother, for everyone in this city."_

_Malcolm's words slipped out before he could think, "You can take your clean slate and shove it up your arse."_

_The fool had mistaken Neal's kindness for weakness. In an instant, the gentle look in his eyes hardened like ice, a tranquil rage filling him that caused Malcolm to swallow nervously, "Are you disobeying the family head?"_

Family Head _, Malcolm scoffed at the title, "Don't you understand? We can do whatever we want!" Malcolm barked, "You have the world in your pocket and you're going to throw all of that way for some hussy?"_

_Neal was silent, unmoving. He looked to his left, nodding once to someone behind Malcolm, "I didn't want it to come to this."_

_Two men in suits grabbed Malcolm's arms, dragging him backwards. Malcolm snarled, struggling fruitlessly as he glared at Neal, "You can't do this! I've killed myself for this family. I've done more than my share while this brat's just riding off my brother!" He spat at the man restraining him, "Let go of me!"_

_"I'm kicking you out from this family. You will take your mother's maiden name, instead of ours," Neal said, arms crossed, brutal like every Gold in history, "Nothing good will come from letting someone_ toxic like you _have any sort of power."_

_The power, the lineage, all of it cut off except for subsidies out of sentiment. When Malcolm realized the situation his childish rage had forced him into, all of his pride disappeared and he nearly sniveled as he shouted, "I take it back. I didn't mean it! I'll fix the family. I'll clean up my act!"_

_Neal knew everything about Malcolm, what he did to his wife, how he terrorized the town, the things he had done when he had people on their knees grovelling. It was his turn to grovel hopelessly._

The eggs were cold; the bacon was overcooked. Malcolm rolled his eyes, poking at his breakfast from Granny's absently. He knew it was on purpose but he couldn't find the strength to start another fight. Everyone in the city was already glaring at him.

"Can I get another cup of coffee?" Malcolm said as he waved to Ruby. The waitress nodded to him and promptly _ignored him_ as she poured a fresh cup for Dr. Whale a few seats down.

A registered sex offender, psychologically and physically abusing a young man under the pretense of a relationship. The videos and images he had posted up to humiliate Felix only worked against him. Malcolm sighed, hating his impulsiveness, the same impulsiveness that got him kicked out from the Golds. Had he still had the town drowning in debt, Malcolm would've easily swindled himself a free meal, maybe even forcing Ruby down for a chat.

He lifted a newspaper, distracting himself with the comics section as he tried to enjoy his stale breakfast. Peering over the paper, Malcolm watched as Wendy Darling stepped through the doors with her new boyfriend. _Baelfire_ , Malcolm seethed in his mind, Neal's younger brother and the would-be heir if Neal had never returned. Ironic how Wendy, the ideal image of a proper young lady, had a love life tied directly to the most notorious family in Storybrooke.

Malcolm clicked his tongue. Notorious no more, not after Neal neutered them.

 

Back home, with the curtains drawn, Malcolm scrolled through his favourites in his browser. Felix was never one to indulge in social media and Peter only used it back when he was putting a show on for Wendy. This meant Malcolm had to dig just a bit deeper to find his information. He clicked the last link in his favourites, the Instagram page for _Rufio Basco_.

Malcolm smirked, scanning the photos of a pool party labelled 'Lost Boys Reunion'. He cooed at the sight of Felix, dressed in swimming trunks, flip-flops and a thick hoodie, always insecure about his lanky body compared to his beefier friends. _So cute._ He right-clicked the newest photo Rufio had posted of Felix sitting by the pool's edge with his feet kicking in the water, saving it to his laptop.

Snarling, Malcolm immediately regret clicking on the next photo. It was of his son and Felix, coiled up together in a closet no doubt trying to find some alone time before someone interrupted them spectacularly. Peter was shoving his hand at the camera, a playful smirk on his otherwise irritated expression while Felix was red-faced and stunned like a deer in the headlights. Still, despite the presence of his son, the photo featured Felix with his sweater hiked up to his chest exposing his narrow waist. It was always one of Malcolm's favourite things about the boy. He promptly saved the image to the laptop and continued on.

 _Felix, Felix, Felix_ , Malcolm crooned at the name, biting on his lip eagerly as he dipped his hands under his waistband. He closed the browser, opening up the folder on his desktop where he kept all of his _precious_ memories of Felix. He clicked on a random video, watching the murky images of Felix on his hands and knees, pointed right at the camera while Malcolm pounded him from behind.

 _This boy was his paradise_. Since he was just a child, sitting in his lap, submitting to his kisses till he pushed too far, too quickly, Felix was everything Malcolm needed. A young, handsome lover who'd follow his every word, let himself get swept away by his words. Instead, Peter got to Felix first and Malcolm was left with nothing.

Malcolm growled, hand jerking at himself quickening, forcing Peter out of his mind. For almost a year, Felix's body and heart belonged to him and only him. He had the boy in bed for hours every day, claiming him any way he wanted. He chuckled huskily, reaching up with his free hand to open a second video, one of the few times they tried _bondage_ and he had Felix spread eagle on the bed with nothing to do but writhe and moan till he stuffed a gag into his mouth.

Throwing his head back, voice low as he groaned loudly, Malcolm raked his free hand through his hair as he came all over his pajama bottoms. He chuckled breathlessly, eyes unblinking as he watched Felix's orgasm on screen, arms and legs trembling against the leather bonds as he whined in a high voice. Another thing Malcolm _loved_ about Felix.

What he loved more were the hours afterwards, rubbing at the raw flesh of his wrists and ankles with baby oil, cradling the boy in his arms, whispering words of encouragement to soothe the fear that came from induced helplessness. Felix would always stiffen at first after intense sex, fearful of Malcolm's presence before the older man whispered sweet words into his ear, coaxing him back into his arms. _Papa would never hurt you. Papa only wanted to try something new. Did you like it?_

Always, always, _always_ , Felix said yes.

_Good. Let's try it again tomorrow._

The bartender slid a drink towards an auburn-haired young man at the corner of the bar, gesturing towards Malcolm when the man quirked a brow at him. Almost immediately, the young man rolled his eyes and backed off, leaving the drink unattended. Malcolm took the glass, shrugging to the bartender and drinking it himself, letting his thoughts get drowned out by the booming music of Neverland.

Felix sat in that same seat, heartbroken over Peter's actions on his goddamn birthday. He was nearly in tears, pathetic and weak, the _perfect_ target for some quick pleasure in the night club bathroom. Malcolm never meant it to be more than that, hadn't even recognized this Felix to be _his_ Felix until Peter himself walked the boy into his home.

 _Damn it._ Why couldn't that boy leave his thoughts? Malcolm was addicted to him, needed more, but had it all taken away when he was too careless. He knew where he made his mistake, when he let that Darling boy get too close. He was so _sure_ Felix was all his, so desperate to rub it in John Darling and his son's face. It all blew up amazingly and here he was, alone, waiting on some sap with a tragic back story to give him some temporary relief.

Grinding up against Felix in the bathroom, watching the boy come twice in one night, the second time against his front door, Malcolm could already feel his jeans tightening. He cleared his throat loudly, asking for a second drink to cool himself off. He turned in his stool, balancing a glass of rum and cola in his fingers, staring out at the Technicolor dance floor.

 _Come on you, dance with me._ A hand tugging on his sleeve. Malcolm watched the slender boy twist amongst the crowd, his sweater falling onto the floor and lost in the sea of people. His shirt, skin tight and translucent from sweat, riding up his body. Malcolm's hands followed the moist fabric, palms and fingers flat against Felix's skin, relishing the intimate heat. Jeans rubbed against each other, feeling almost non-existent as the two felt each and every one of the other's curves. Arms curling around his neck, head tilting backwards, a lusty, absent look on Felix's face as he grasped at Malcolm's greying, mahogany locks, lips pressing together and then-

A gasp, Malcolm shot up in his seat and marched towards the bathroom, shuffling awkwardly to hide the heavy heat in his lap. He couldn't believe he had let himself get worked up in public by a simple _memory_ of his once beloved. He bit down on his lips, muffling the pleasure with pain, thoughts flickering to anger in an attempt to quell his erection.

 _Think of Peter. Think of Zelena. Think of Neal._ All the people in his life that pulled away his happiness. All of his misery because of _them_ , never himself. And Felix, Felix was just another thing his son took away from him. It was _unfair_. Felix was _his_. And now he'll never get to see him--

Shoving the bathroom door open, Malcolm froze when he found himself eye-to-eye with _Felix_ , the boy washing his hands by the sink and catching the middle-aged man in the reflection of the mirror.

 _Impossible_. Yet here he was, in the bathroom where they first touched one another, _all alone_. Malcolm's eyes flickered to the stalls, checking for anyone else before landing back on Felix. The boy looked older, his hair still a messy bed of curls but trimmed up. He still wore his trademark hoodie, thin jeans that Malcolm was dying to touch. No one was in here. No one had to know.

"You shouldn't be here," Felix murmured and the sound of Felix's voice was all Malcolm needed to go forward, lunging at the boy. Felix tried to dive around him, getting caught around the waist and thrown backwards into the wall, "You can't-" A hand closed over his mouth, reducing his protests to muffled groans.

 _Oh god…_ The heated touch of his skin, every curve of his body against his own, the sweet scent Felix always naturally radiated, Malcolm groaned huskily as the heat in his pants grew. Fuck the restraining order, Felix was here and he wasn't going anywhere. One arm tight around Felix's body, restraining his arms to his side while his other hand remained clamped over his mouth, Malcolm dragged the struggling boy into the nearest stall, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Shhh-Shhh," Malcolm shushed Felix, their lips nearly touching if not for Malcolm's hand clasped tightly over Felix's mouth. The brat wouldn't stop _whimpering,_ screaming when Malcolm crushed him against the bathroom wall, grinding his crotch against his leg, "Be good. Be good," Malcolm muttered into Felix's ear, burying his nose into the side of his head and breathing in, intoxicated.

Hands came up to Malcolm's face, the prospect of getting gouged in the eye again alerting Malcolm. He took Felix by the wrist and rolled him over, pressing his face into the unfeeling metal walls of the bathroom stall and shoving all of his weight upon his body to restrain him. His hand remained tight over Felix's mouth, waiting for Felix to stop his struggling.

Every time Felix tried to strike him, shout, or thrash him off, Malcolm would crush him into the wall with his weight, purposely grinding his hips into his ass threatening to fuck him harshly, "Are you scared?" Malcolm whispered, his free hand stroking at Felix's trembling hip, "There's nothing to be afraid of. I won't hurt you."

Felix threw his head back when Malcolm nipped on his earlobe, a sharp cry barely muffled by Malcolm's hand. His need to escape renewed, he shoved against the wall, thrashing uncontrollably and unable to get anywhere, unable to get _away_. Frustrated, always, _always_ unable to control his temper, Malcolm struck the wall beside Felix's head _hard_. Felix's entire body flinched fearfully, his voice caught in his throat from sheer terror. Malcolm's hand was throbbing; if anyone had heard it, they would've immediately called the bouncer in suspicion. But no one heard it and in some odd, terrible miracle, _Felix stopped struggling._

 _There it was_ , that quivering flame in Felix's eye when he turned his head to stare at the hand still flat against the bathroom wall, that same spark Malcolm saw when he was still with the Golds, before Neal took everything away, when he could make anyone do whatever he wanted.

 _Felix gave in._ Once that spark confirmed it all, Malcolm hooked his arm around Felix's waist and ground his hips forward harshly. Despite the lack of attention, Malcolm's erection hadn't withered. On the contrary, seeing Felix for the first time in a while and _wrestling him into submission_ only seemed to make his cock throb harder. He shoved his hips forward, the heat caused by the friction between their jeans almost overwhelming. Malcolm kept his eyes shut, groaning pleasurably at the touch of every single curve on Felix's ass, feeling them through tight jeans damp with sweat. Had their pants not be in the way, Malcolm's cock would've jammed into Felix's ass, using him for nothing more than his own pleasure.

Eyes snapping open, shuddering lustfully at how Felix had hung his forearms pressed against the wall, fists tight to stop the shaking. His eyes were clenched shut, struggling to take breaths as Malcolm's fingers occasionally snapped over his nose and cut off his airflow. He wasn't reacting, wasn't enjoying this, and Malcolm didn't want that.

"Malcolm!" Felix gasped out when the hand slipped from his lips briefly, his second hand undoing the front of Felix's jeans and stuffing itself inside. He struggled relentless, protests muffled once more when Malcolm's hand returned over his mouth while the other jerked at him under his jeans.

When Malcolm felt the pliant flesh hardening under his touch, Malcolm shut his eyes and let himself get whisked away by Felix's body, his hand and hips in an obscene rhythm as he dry-humped and jerked Felix off at the same time. He pressed his face into Felix's neck, _tasting him_ and crooning.

Too quickly, Malcolm could feel himself about to come. He knew it was for the best. Peter would get worried and look for Felix, finding Malcolm forcing himself upon him. If there was anything that could kill his erection, it'd be the presence of his son screeching at him. Malcolm let out a small chuckle, amused by how romancing Felix was still a game of hiding from his son.

He slowed his pace when Felix gripped at his arm, trying to pulling his hand from his mouth, "Don't do that," Malcolm whispered into his ear, dipping his tongue in to watch him tremble, "I'm not going to hurt you," His hand quickened in Felix's jeans, feeling the boy's rock-hard cock twitch, motivating him. His own cock was throbbing in his jeans, leaking pre-come all over the front. He wondered if that was what Felix was suddenly frightened by, Malcolm's imminent orgasm against his body, " _Just a little more…_ " Malcolm groaned, throwing his head back as he quickened his pace, erratically snapping his hips against Felix's ass, the fabric _fraying_ from the repeated motion, " _Oh god…oh god._ Yes! Yes!" Malcolm cried out, voice rising as he released Felix's cock to yank his hips harshly against his own, coming all over the inside of his jeans while his cock was fitted perfectly against Felix's ass.

Finally slipping out from Malcolm's hands, Felix shoved them both backwards, slamming Malcolm against the opposite wall while he was still basking in his afterglow. Malcolm tried to snarl but only managed a husky moan, low and rumbling in his throat like an animal. His hand left Felix's mouth, arm coming around his neck instead and yanking him backwards, holding Felix against his body as his hand dove down the front of his jeans once more.

" _Mal-_ " Felix choked out, voice breaking as the hand in his pants groped at all his hot spots.

 _The underside of his shaft, the head of his cock,_ Malcolm knew every single one of Felix's favourite spots. He wondered if Peter knew them too or if this was Malcolm's knowledge alone. He tightened his hold around Felix's neck, jerking him backwards until his head fell against his shoulder. Their eyes locked once more, both of them could see the other drowning in lust and fury, lips open and wet and _yearning_ and pressed up against the other, hungry and desperate. Malcolm's wrist was starting to chafe against the jeans but he didn't care. He squeezed and groped and furiously jerked at Felix hot and throbbing cock till the boy joined him in orgasmic bliss, coming all over the inside of his pants. Malcolm didn't even realize they were kissing until after he opened his eyes and saw the boy so close.

Their lips parted with a quiet pop. Malcolm released his hold around Felix's neck, sliding down to his shoulders so he could keep him in place. There was a numbing feeling in the air, something that felt wrong and right, spiteful yet yearning. Malcolm could see in Felix's lips, parted, wet, and desperate for more despite the uncontrollably quivering and mousy look in his eyes. His hands remained latched around the arm on his shoulders, not fighting, not trying to gouge out Malcolm's eyes. Testing the water, hand still down Felix's pants and soaked in come, Malcolm claimed Felix's lips in a kiss and found no resistance whatsoever.

Felix could have shouted. Felix could have kept fighting. Felix could have bit his tongue off right now as it scoured his mouth. _But he didn't._ Instead the boy stared at him like he was the devil, too scared to rebel lest his soul be taken, so terrified he could've fainted right there. At that simple look, Malcolm could feel his dick _twitch_ despite being spent.

"Don't tell Peter," Malcolm whispered into his ear before shoving Felix forward, watching the boy hit the opposite wall and crumple onto the floor, unable to break eye contact even when it looked like it pained him. From a single step forward, Felix flinched like he was struck and whined like a beaten dog.

Fixing his clothes and washing his hands in the sink, Malcolm briskly marched out from the bathroom and out the backdoor, desperate to get away before Peter or anyone who could recognize him could spot him. The night air was cool against his heated skin and stained jeans, a welcome relief. A dusting of snow covered the ground but Malcolm paid it no mind. He'd face Hell tomorrow when Peter found out, the Sheriff, the town paper, they'd all be on him. But today, for a brief moment, Malcolm had everything he ever wanted and he was content.

 

Felix _didn't_ tell Peter.

 

Malcolm watched his phone for days, receiving no word of his restraining order being breached nor an angry rant from Peter. It made no sense why Felix wouldn't tell anyone. He was the type to keep to himself but _never_ to his son, not when it involved Malcolm. If he was angry, if vengeance was his motive, all it would take was a single word to sic the entire legal force against him.

Crossing his legs, Malcolm folded his hands thoughtfully on the desk, still staring at his phone waiting for something to happen.

For all his life, his things were always _taken_ from him. His older brother took control of the family while he was delegated to some side role. Neal exiled him, taking away all his riches and power. Zelena left him for the ice cream lady, leaving behind a wretched, little brat that took away his money, his reputation, his time, and finally, his _Felix_.

Except… Peter might have taken away, might've finally reciprocated his love, but Felix was still his, bending to his word and will. _That quivering flame_ , desperate to burn bright but cowering and controlled by every breath Malcolm took. Even with Peter's affection and the restraining order, Malcolm still had power over Felix. Last night and the fact that he wasn't rotting in a cell right now proved this.

Malcolm picked up his phone, thumbing Felix's number and testing his bounds.

 

'Lunch at 12 Triton's Castle'

Malcolm was nearly jittering in excitement, taking a sip of coffee to distract himself. Triton's Castle was always empty during the lunch hour. Ever since the owner's daughter ran away, they were never able to find someone decent to replace her as morning chef. This meant all that would be served was abysmal coffee and terrible seafood dishes. _Not an ideal place for a date but it'll have to do._

His heart hammered in his chest as the bell by the door jingled, the object of his unhealthy desire stepping through the door. The cool breeze from the sea struck him but Malcolm paid it no attention, all of his thoughts focused on this blond boy.

"Felix," The name came out slow and sultry on his lips.

Felix kept his heavy jacket on, his posture unfeeling and closed up. He kept his lips pressed tight together, brows knitted, scowling at the older man as he stood in front of him.

"Been so long. Remind me again, you like octopus, yes? I've ordered the octopus Carpaccio for starters. And for mains--"

"I'm not eating with you."

"I got the lobster linguine for myself and the crab cakes for you. Of course, if you'd prefer the lobster--"

"Malcolm!"

The older man's gaze left the menu, meeting Felix's eyes and watching them immediately quiver with uncertainty, "I'm not talking to you unless you sit down."

At this very moment, if Felix simply turned around and left the restaurant, there'd be nothing more that Malcolm could do. He had to fight the urge to laugh when Felix did _exactly as he said_ , sitting down meekly with his head slightly hanging.

"Jacket too," Malcolm said, voice coy but his command heard. Felix removed his jacket and hung it on the back of his seat, "Thank you, Felix," He set the menu aside, folding his hands and smiling pleasantly at Felix like an old friend, "What is it?"

"Don't text me ever again," Felix said through clenched teeth. He took out his phone, flipping it open and selecting the text inviting him to lunch from an anonymous number.

Malcolm missed Felix's phone, its retro charm pleasant to him, "No one forced you to come yet here you are," He steepled his fingers, watching Felix over them with the utmost glee, "Did you miss me?"

Felix bared his teeth, mustering all of his courage as he snarled, " _No_ ," He snapped, "I came here to tell you that you can't control me anymore. I'm not afraid of you."

Malcolm could tell his words were recited, practiced over and over in his head till he thought the tone was right, " _Afraid_. What are you afraid of, Felix?" The boy was stunned, blinking dumbly. He was never as sharp as Peter, John, or Wendy, making him such an easy target, "Afraid of all the things you know I can give and how _low_ you'd be willing to put yourself to get it?"

"There's nothing I want from you."

"Afraid that after all the things you've done to put walls between us, you'll come crashing back into my arms? Afraid of how silly you'll look?"

"I'll never go back to you."

"Afraid that deep down, _you still want me and you don't know why,_ and that you'd throw away everything you've built, everything _Peter's_ built, to have me back?" Malcolm smirked when Felix remained silent. He could see it if he squinted, _a leash around Felix's neck_ , the same one he put on him the day he took his virginity. Peter could do whatever the hell he wanted to keep them apart; Felix already belonged to him.

Felix looked pained, brows knitted together, lip trembling slightly. His eyes were round and innocent, staring up at Malcolm while his body was crumpled in the seat, trying to shrink away and disappear from Malcolm's gaze. He wanted to retort, wanted to deny, but the words would not leave his mouth.

"Does he know all your favourite spots?" Malcolm asked, leaning forward on his hands, "You know he can't fuck you like I can," His hand lurched forward on the table, his body following, "I know you didn't come here to talk. You wanted what I gave you that night in Neverland."

Malcolm smirked when Felix remained silent, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. Malcolm was transfixed by the motion.

"That rough, dirty, toe-curling sex that Peter's too green or too clumsy to do. You want me to kiss you again, deep, hungry, and sloppy. My tongue down your throat, tasting you," Malcolm's eyes flickered down in a calculated motion, " _All of you._ "

Felix nearly cried out, his whole body flinching violently when Malcolm's hand suddenly came down on his wrist, pinning it to the table. The blood drained from Felix's face and into his crotch; all of his steel from before shattered to pieces, revealing the soft, crying little boy underneath. Malcolm could feel the goose bumps on his skin, could feel them growing when he stroked him with his thumb.

Malcolm licked his lips, relishing the feel of Felix's supple skin, "There's a bathroom in the back. How about we get what we both came for and be done with that?"

 _There it was_ , the uncertainty that Malcolm was aiming for, the nonsensical voice in Felix's head that was telling him not to run, telling him to go back with this vile man who exposed him to the world. He looked like he was going to cry and if he did, Malcolm knew he would win.

But he tore away, shoving his chair back, "I-I shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake," He scrambled to his feet, rushing to the door and nearly running into the waiter cleaning the tables by the window.

"Felix!"

Like a well-trained dog, Felix stopped exactly where he was, unable to move a step. He hung his head when Malcolm approached, arms tight against his side as he tried to make himself as small as possible. A heavy weight draped over his shoulders, his coat still warm from when he removed it.

"You forgot this," Malcolm said, gentle smile on his face as he smoothed his hands over Felix's shoulders, "I missed you," He cooed, hands trailing down his arms when Felix nearly sprinted out the door.

So frantic to leave, Felix hadn't even realized he had left something behind. Malcolm picked up the abandoned phone, flipping it open and smirking to find his last message with Felix on an anonymous number at the very top of his conversations.

 

From the looks of it, it seemed like Peter and Felix were having an argument. Malcolm searched through his conversation thread with Peter, noting how all their talks were mostly snarky remarks from Peter and reactionary comments from Felix. The power dynamic between the two was clear and something Malcolm highly approved of. It was only recently, the same date Malcolm found Felix at Neverland, did the conversation topics begin to sour.

The start of it all came from Felix shortly after chatting about the new customers at The Rabbit Hole, telling Peter that Rufio was inviting them to a Christmas party in New York just like their pool party a few months back. Malcolm confirmed Felix's story, finding Rufio's conversation thread unanswered. Back in Peter's conversation, his son was protesting subtly, trying to dismiss the party and claim that he had something else to do. Malcolm could read his son's vernacular, could tell that he was unhappy with Rufio's suggestion.

Malcolm remembered Rufio from the stories Felix told of his photo collections. He grew up alongside Peter and Felix, always bright and bouncy but especially so around Felix. So much so that one day, Peter forced Felix to kick Rufio out of the Lost Boys claiming that he was ruining their style. Devastated, Rufio disappeared to live in New York with his older brother.

In attempts to fix all the damage he had done to Felix's life, Peter was reaching out to all of their old friends, trying to make peace. With Rufio, peace was achieved spectacularly… the exact opposite of what Peter wanted. _Too friendly, too energetic_ , the poor boy was jealous of his old friend and possessive of his lover.

Malcolm scrolled down the conversation, watching as Peter's remarks became seething and personal, lashing out at Felix, damning Rufio's party. The last comment came from Peter: "Do what you want. I don't care", and that was that. Felix went to Neverland to cool off and found Malcolm to relieve himself once more.

Snickering as he scrolled further back in the logs, he read aloud Peter and Felix's hilariously terrible sextings, searching through every intimate detail he could find with childish glee. The pictures were as he expected, blurry and low quality, Peter and Felix laying together in bed while Felix snapped the shot from above them, occasionally a shot of just Peter accidentally doing something cute in their apartment. Notably, most of their photos were either shot in their apartment or at some special event. In the day time, during school and work, the two were _separated_ as evidenced by their text message conversations.

Malcolm felt no anxiety whatsoever when he heard his phone ringing, an unknown number on the screen. It could have been the authorities but he knew it wasn't. He answered the phone, toothy smile on his face as he scrolled through the pictures on Felix's phone, "Hello?"

The voice was silent on the other end, shallow breathing heard on the speaker.

"Hello?" Malcolm repeated, mouth gaping when he found a picture of Felix half naked in the bathroom, pants halfway down his ass, no doubt a treat to send to Peter.

"Give me back my phone."

He almost laughed at how quiet Felix's demand sounded, "You're the one who left it behind," He retorted, licking his lips at another sensual selfie in Felix's gallery, "If you want it back, you can come over and pick it up yourself."

Silence again. Felix was always so pliant under his words, never able to keep up with his tongue. Malcolm _loved_ holding that over him.

"I'm telling Peter."

A soft chuckle that Malcolm knew would send Felix in a frenzy, "Will you?"

No protest, _no ability to,_ instead, Felix hung up right away. Malcolm put his phone away, flopping onto his couch victoriously as he continued scrolling through Felix's pictures and texts. It was still early in the day, sun beaming through the windows, but Malcolm had little to do. He palmed at the front of his jeans as he expanded a photo of Felix touching himself in a mist covered mirror, ' _Peter_ ' written in a heart using the condensation.

The doorbell rang, startling him. For a brief, foolish moment, Malcolm wondered if Felix really came to get his phone. Cleaning himself up, fixing up his clothes, he was poised to seduce Felix back into his arms only to be thoroughly disappointed at _his son_ standing at the door.

"Peter," Malcolm growled.

"Malcolm," Peter replied, shoving his father backwards as he stepped into the house, "Give me Felix's phone."

 _Felix wouldn't tell Peter._ There was no way Malcolm underestimated his influence on the boy so he played ignorant, "What are you talking about?"

"You took his phone," Peter snarled, "Don't play stupid. I know your tricks."

"Don't know what you mean," Malcolm hissed back, fighting the flinch when Peter lifted his own phone and selected Felix's number.

_'To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die…'_

Outplayed, Malcolm remained silent when Peter marched over to the living room and took Felix's phone from under the pillows on the couch. He approached Malcolm slowly, their heights matched but Peter was healthier, made of sharp angles fresh from youth, "Stay. Away. From. Felix."

Full of arrogance and so sure of his victory, Peter pocketed Felix's phone before searching for the sheriff's number, "I hope you enjoy spending the night in the sheriff's office."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Malcolm replied, irritatingly confident despite the compromising situation.

"Why not?" Peter asked, taking the bait, aware that Malcolm wasn't the type to bluff in a situation like this.

Leaning forward till their noses almost touched, Malcolm cheerfully said, "Because Felix came to me voluntarily," He took hold of Peter's phone, cancelling the call and lowering his hand while their eyes were still locked together, "I texted him, asked him out for lunch, and instead of telling you or reporting me, he came to me. A supposed 'victim' seeking out his aggressor? Unless you want Felix to be the next scandal on The Mirror, you'll keep this to yourself."

Wary at first, Peter took Felix's phone back out and searched through the chat logs, indeed finding a text from an unknown number asking him to lunch. Peter bit down on his lip, hating himself for getting into a fight with Felix. All alone, his beloved friend had no strength to stand against his father.

"He won't leave the apartment, you know," Peter said, putting Felix's phone away and staring at his father with what seemed to be _concern_ , "He took the week off from The Rabbit Hole, won't go anywhere unless I'm with him. He's even too scared to go out alone with the Lost Boys. And I know he hasn't been sleeping well for these past few days," Peter's eyes narrowed immediately, disgusted by the _apathy_ in his father's face, "Why aren't you reacting?"

"Like you have any right to lecture me, boy," Malcolm growled, "What about what you did to Felix? Leading him on for more than a decade, turning him into your personal slave, _humiliating him_ on his own birthday. You aren't any different from me."

"Yes I am," Peter replied, voice firm but not hoarse from rage. He stood tall as he spoke, "I can live on equal ground with Felix. I can live without forcing someone beneath me to make myself feel powerful. _You can't._ "

Long ago, Malcolm had everything, the town drowning in debt to the Golds. He had a trophy wife and a son on the way, a son that could very well take over the Gold Family if his older brother's youngest son decided to run away as well. Everything was going right and in a terrible yet magnificent act of karma, Malcolm lost it all.

Peter was right. Malcolm couldn't change, not after everything he once had. Losing to his son, he let the boy out silently. He shut the door, returned to his bedroom, and turned on his laptop, searching for the photos he had taken from Rufio's Instagram a few days back, playing a clip of Felix willingly hogtied on his bed. His hand in his jeans, groping at himself till it hurt, and for that brief moment, when he could render Felix into nothing more than a sex object, Malcolm felt like he had the world in his pocket once more.


End file.
